Raven Crowking's Nest

Wednesday, 25 March 2015

When TSR released the AD&D Monster Manual II, the Tarrasque was
unleashed. The Monster Manual II was a collection of monsters, either written
or compiled by Gary Gygax, as was the original. The Tarrasque was a monster to
end all monsters, something to let even the highest-level characters break into
a cold sweat.

The problem with the Tarrasque in DCC is that it has already been
done.

Bear with me. I ask you to consider Mr. Goodman’s The
Emerald Enchanter, Mr. Stroh’s Colossus, Arise!, and REDACTED’s NOT OUT YET. Each of
these adventures contains an encounter that is a spiritual successor to the
Tarrasque.

From Mr. Goodman, we learn that it is allowable to create DCC monsters
that the PCs don’t even have a chance to affect. And it is okay to just say a
monster does XdY damage to a PC – no attack roll or save required. From Mr.
Stroh we learn that sometimes a monster is going to get free environment-altering
effects in addition to its attacks. (The Thing in the Chimney used the same
for the Cinder Claws, albeit to a lesser extent, when it appeared in time for
Christmas 2012. There is nothing new under the sun.) In REDACTED by REDACTED we
see that REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED,
which is close enough to the idea of the Tarrasque that I
hesitate to throw my hat into this particular ring.

So, keep playing through the upcoming DCC adventures. When NOT OUT YET has been out long enough to
give people a chance to play it through, I may revisit this topic. And, no, I
am not going to reveal the identity of REDACTED
at this time. I don’t wish to spoil any surprises. I will just say that I am
not the author.

Monday, 23 March 2015

David VC descirbes “A Gazeball, a floating eye/gas spore
hybrid that paralyzes you and drains your Intelligence until it explodes, after
which 0-2 new gazeballs emerge from your skull...﻿” For Dave and your reading
(and gaming) pleasure, I therefore present:

A gazeball is a fungal horror which appears to be a large
eye, floating in midair, perhaps due to some form of levitation. Rhizomatic
growths at its apex appear almost like a crown of eyes, each at the end of a
short tentacle-like growth. In fact, pustulant sacs in the gazeball’s mass create
a volatile gas that provides lift, and the “crown of eyes” are designed to incubate,
and eject the spores of, a secondary symbiotic fungi. The gazeball can shoot a
line of symbiotic spores up to 30’ (Ref save DC 15 or suffer 1d3 temporary
Agility damage).

When a target is paralyzed, or can barely move due to the
symbiotic spores, the gazeball uses another growth to deposit its own spores on
the victim. These spores are laid in a thick coat of slime over the victim’s
face. The slime can be broken down by alcohol, or dissolves on its own after a
period of 2d10 minutes. While the slime is present, the victim is blinded.
During this period, the spores travel into the victim’s skull, where they
infest the brain (a DC 20 Fort save prevents this from occurring). If the slime
is washed off within the first 10 rounds, the victim gains a +1 to +10 bonus to
the save, with the highest bonus indicated it is washed off within a single
round.

The gazeball’s spores cause 1d3 Intelligence damage
immediately upon infestation, and then cause 1d3-1 points of Intelligence
damage each day thereafter. When damage causes a PC to fall to 10 Intelligence
or less, the character’s entire head becomes tender. Thereafter, there is
visible cranial swelling. If a victim falls to 0 Intelligence, roll 1d3-1. On a
result of 1-2, the victim’s skull explodes, revealing new gazeballs equal to
the number rolled (1 or 2) with 1 HD each. On a roll of “0”, the victim manages
to defeat the infection, and slowly returns to normal. Otherwise, the infection
can only be cured by magic or clerical healing (4 HD result or better).

A gazeball’s slam attack is only used in self-defence. The fungal
creature is not looking for a meal, but for the chance to reproduce.

Finally, when damaged there is a percentage chance equal to
the total damage taken that a gazeball will explode due to the weakening of the
gas pustules. This causes 1d3 damage to all targets within 30’, who must also
succeed in a DC 5 Fort save to avoid infestation with the gazeball’s spores. If
there is an open flame within the radius of the blast, it causes a secondary
explosion for 2d6 damage (Reflex save DC 10 for half damage; characters who
take 6+ damage are set on fire). Each point of fire damage counts as 5 points
when determining the chance of explosion.

Saturday, 21 March 2015

DDogwood says, "I want to see a monster like the crocodile from Peter Pan - it prefers to eat its victims bit by bit, over a long period of time. For example, the first time you encounter it, it might bite off a hand. Then it escapes, but starts stalking its victim. Days later, it might attack again and take the rest of the arm. A few days after that, it takes a foot. Of course, the missing limbs can't be restored unless the monster is slain."

Okay.

I am of the opinion that the goal is two-fold here. One is to strike fear into the hearts of the players (or, at least, their characters) and the other is to pay tribute to an awesome denizen of our childhood memories. I am therefore going to include some sensory clue that the monster is nearby, like the ticking of the clock in Peter Pan, and I am going to build the creature as a giant reptile. It is important that the sensory clue is similar enough to something else that the players have doubts whether it is the "crocodile" or a "clock" they "hear".

Mechanically, we need a way to bring the
PCs into contact with the same monster repeatedly. Unlike Captain Hook, the PCs
are not stuck forever in the Neverland. Our monster must have the means to
follow its chosen target.

It requires not only a means to appear, but
also a means to escape. Perhaps Captain Hook didn’t kill the crocodile because
it was Pan’s creature. Perhaps it was impossible. But most PC groups would
simply have made an end of it if they could. So we need to make that difficult.

Our design parameter s also include eating
a victim a little bit at a time, and the opportunity to heal those little bits
(only) after the creature is slain. The sense of being diminished is important for
fear, and we are looking at a creature designed to promote fear. Because of the
healing requirement, I am not going to have the creature eat its victims
physically – instead it will eat little bits of the victim’s soul that
correspond to parts of the body, leaving the body whole but with those parts
eaten becoming unresponsive.

Let’s start, then, with the crocodile from
Peter Pan, and then introduce our new creature.

Hook’s crocodile is an enormous saltwater
crocodile that haunts the Neverland. When Peter Pan cut off Captain James
Hook’s right hand, he fed it to the crocodile. The crocodile liked it so much
that it has been following Hook ever since in hopes of getting the rest.

This crocodile gains a +5 bonus to all
attempts at hiding, lower than that of typical giant reptiles because of the
loud ticking noise it makes…the result of a clock it once swallowed, and which
is still undigested, echoing in the crocodile’s innards.

On a natural 19-20, the crocodile can
swallow its victim whole. The victim takes 1d6 damage each round, but may
attempt a DC 20 Strength check to force his way out. This is something that has
happened before, and will happen again, according to J. Barrie’s Peter
Pan.

The crocodile can also lunge forward in the
first round of combat, covering a move of 40’.

According to some authorities, even if
Captain Hook did manage to defeat the crocodile, Pan would simply resurrect it.
Possibly with another Hit Die or two.

The soul hunter is an extradimensional creature that subsists off of the souls of its
victims. Its bite passes through flesh without harming it, but tears off a
small piece of the victim’s soul, causing 1d3 points of Strength, Agility, or
Stamina damage and rendering part of the body useless. The damage reflects the
effect of the bite – 1 point of Agility damage might indicate that a few
fingers are rendered useless, but, eventually, as the damage adds up, the
victim is able to use less and less of his body. The player can choose which
ability, from among the three, to take the damage from.

(Some sages and theologians theorize that
the soul is suffused throughout the body, so that when an amputee feels “phantom
limb pain”, he is in fact feeling the remnant soul which has no bodily housing.
The action of the soul hunter is the opposite; the housing remains, but parts
of the soul are taken.)

The soul hunter needs very little “food” to
survive. After each attack, it retreats into shadows and disappears. This allows
prepared characters to attempt a free whack. Thereafter, it is attuned to its
current victim’s soul, and cannot feed off of another until the victim’s entire
soul is consumed. Every 1d5 days, the creature will crawl out of some shadowy
area, attack until it has successfully caused its victim damage, and then
retreat again.

So long as the soul hunter lives, the
damage it causes cannot be healed or undone, short of divine intervention (DC
20). Such divine intervention also severs the soul hunter’s bond with its
victim, and it is free to choose another. If the soul hunter is slain, its
victim recovers the ability damage normally. Because the soul hunter is bound
to a specific victim, it always knows exactly where that victim is, and can
track it through shadows with complete accuracy. Even blinding the creature
cannot prevent the soul hunter from knowing exactly where its victim is.

The soul hunter’s appearances are preceded
by a strong smell of beer, which only the victim can perceive. This gives the
victim 1d5 rounds to prepare, but doesn’t prevent the soul hunter from
appearing suddenly from shadows, surprising on a 1 in 4 chance. This scent is
disguised in taverns and similar locations, and the smell of normal beer may
easily be mistaken for the soul hunter’s approach.

The soul hunter’s ability to move through
shadows, travelling from any shadowed area to any other shadowy area, anywhere,
can be foiled only by full illumination, so that there are no shadows which it
can use. Otherwise, even weak shadows allow the creature to pass by using an
Action Die, and stronger shadows allow it to pass using a normal move.

The soul hunter looks like a shadowy
crocodile, with glowing eyes. Its legs are longer than those of a true
crocodile, however. If reduced to 0 hp, it melts into shadows, never to be seen again.

Thursday, 19 March 2015

Deep beneath the city, where the offal from the sewers collects in
deep pits, dwell the dreaded otyughs. These creatures have three stumpy legs
and three tentacles protruding from an oozing mass of diseased flesh. Two of
the tentacles are long, ending in spiked paddles that can strike or entwine
other creatures. The third tentacle has been modified to support two eyes,
allowing the otyugh to see while submerged in the odious contents of its lair. Its
central body has a huge mouth with sharp fangs capable of delivering deadly
bites. Even if the victim should survive, he may succumb to disease thereafter.

A concealed otyugh automatically gains surprise unless looked for,
and even then it gains surprise on a 5 in 7 chance.

When it makes a tentacle attack, it can reach up to 15’ away. The otyugh
must determine if it wishes to attempt a blow or to entwine prey – a blow does
more damage, but entwined prey takes 1d4 constriction damage each round and can
be drawn 5’ closer. A DC 10 Strength check prevents the otyugh from drawing its
prey nearer during any given round; if the check result is 15+, the victim
escapes. This check is not free; it requires an Action Die.

Anyone bit by the otyugh’s filthy maw must make a DC 15 Fort save or
suffer 1d3 points of Stamina damage. Thereafter, even if the initial save
succeeded, the victim must make an additional DC 10 Fort save each minute or
suffer an additional 1 point of Stamina damage. This condition lasts until
magically healed, three consecutive saves are successful (including the initial
save), or the victim is dead.

Otyughs do not eat freshly killed prey. Instead, they allow bodies
to rot for 3d3 weeks before they are fit for consumption. Because of their
rubbery hide, they take only half damage from bludgeoning weapons. Their bodies
are about 8’ in diameter.

There are persistent rumours of evolved, or neo-otyughs, smaller but
smarter than their more common kin. It is possible to speak to, and bargain
with, these beings. They often know much about the area they live in – be it a
sewer system or a dungeon – and want nothing more than new and interesting
carrion and faeces in return.

Don’t ask. The life of an otyugh, evolved or otherwise, is not
something most humanoids would wish for.

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

The sahuagin were an original creation by Steve Marsh for TSR-Era
D&D. They first appeared in Supplement II: Blackmoor in 1975, and, luckily, were
released as Open Gaming Content by OGL-era Wizards of the Coast. The result is
that we have 1st and 2nd edition AD&D sahuagin,
Pathfinder sahuagin, and the sahuagin of every WotC-era D&D to examine in
defining the “iconic” sahuagin. They have even made the leap into screen-based
games, such as Minecraft and Brave Frontier.

Cunning and savage fish-folk, the sahuagin hate everybody.
Especially aquatic elves…perhaps by extension all elves. They attack ships.
They work well with sharks, which they can command, so perhaps they don’t hate
everything.
The sahuagin are subject to mutation, sometimes having four arms. They are
also, apparently, sometimes far more human-like and at other times far more
fish- or shark-like in their skeletal structure.

Sahuagin differ from DCC’s Deep Ones in their inherent savagery,
their relationship to sharks, and their tendency to mutate. So, let’s go from
there are make them metal!

Scions of the Shark God

Elves have always gained their magical powers by making pacts with
supernatural entities – powerful demons, nature spirits, fey lords, and
eldritch beings from the dawn of time. Thousands of years ago, on the Isles of
Sahua, there was a group of elves whose devotion to the shark-god, Kuawangu.
They fed slaves to the sharks in His sacred pools, and in return they gained
the bounty and protection of the seas.

Sahua is long gone, brought beneath the waves in a fiery volcanic
cataclysm. Some say that there was a schism between the followers of jealous
patrons, and that the followers of Kuawangu were transformed to carry their
lord’s vengeance against all others. Some say that the elves of Sahua turned
from the shark-god, and He wreaked the destruction of their islands, elevating
the sharks from His sacred pools to rule the watery palaces where proud elven
folk once strode. Whatever the truth may be, Sahua is gone, and the Sahuagin
swarm where ancient charts once placed the island chain.

Sahuagin are tall, slender humanoids with green scaled skin,
shark-like teeth, and sharp claws. They favour tridents as weapons, but, like
elves, avoid the use of iron and steel. This may be an indication of their
elven ancestry, or it may be because such metal rusts quickly in the salty
brine of their ocean home. Their scales are darker toward their spines, fading
to a green-white on their bellies. Only a careful examination can determine the
gender of a non-pregnant female sahuagin, or an unaroused male.

Sahuagin warriors can control up to 2 Hit Dice of sharks each. They
are capable of using strong lines of seaweed fibres and animal sinews to
grapple ships from below. The sahuagin holding each line adds drag to the ship,
slowing it until it is brought to a stop. The sahuagin then board the ship,
slaughtering all aboard before sinking the hapless vessel.

Let’s Get Dangerous

Already we have a pretty serviceable fish-man monster, but the thing
about sahuagin is that they are not all the same. Some sahuagin mutants have
four arms, according to even the earliest sources. What if these mutations
don’t stop with arms? What if they are caused by the same magic which transformed
the sahuagin into what they are in the first place?

Sahuagin mutants call themselves “Scions of Kuawangu”, and claim
that their mutations are the result of the Shark-God’s divine bloodline. When
rolling up a small band of sahuagin, the judge may use 1d30 to see which are
mutated. Alternately, roll 1d10 and use the numbers in parenthesis for
whichever sahuagin you decide are mutated.

Die Roll

Mutation

1-20

None

21-24 (1-4)

Additional pair of arms. +1 Action Die, and it is
possible to wield a second trident.

Psionic. Enlarged head and brain. Can make a psychic
attack for 1d8 damage within 120’. Will save (DC 1d20 + sahuagin’s HD) for
half. If this is rolled more than once, increase damage by +1d on the dice
chain.

Really, what is the point of including shark-controlling adversaries
without including some statistics for sharks? These are only base statistics;
the judge can and should modify them to create specific species or creatures.

Best issue yet.DCC meets Car Wars in the wasteland roadways of post-Apocalyptic Umerica. Evocative but simple rules for vehicles, chases, and vehicular combat. A class that definitely fits the setting well, and feels unique rather than tacked-on. Gang generator. 100 Road-side encounters from the excellent blog Elfmaids & Octopi. A perfect new monster with a built-in reason for the PCs to go looking for it.This issue makes me want to write an adventure just to play with the new toys. It's that good.Get it.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Like DCC, Munchkin is a game where characters have 10 levels,
although there is no “0 level”. The potted plant can be defeated by a level 1
character and grants an extra treasure card to elves. Nothing bad happens if
you can’t defeat it; you can always run away. It should be noted that there is
another “potted plant” card that you can use to eliminate something from an
opponent. In Munchkin, this means another one of your fellow players! We will attempt to use these factors to create an interesting potted
plant that could actually be used in-game.

The potted plant looks like nothing more than a plant in a pot. It is
non-sentient (and cannot be attacked by mind-affecting spells or abilities as a
result), but it can defend itself by whipping its tough, sharp fronds at
opponents in melee range.

These potted plants have a strange ability to manipulate chance. When
slain, they attach a minor curse to the creature striking the final blow: If
that character names an object carried by another character within 10 minutes
of killing the plant, that character must succeed in a DC 10 Luck check or the
object has been mysteriously lost. If more than one character has the object (“rope”,
for instance), then only the character with the lowest Luck and the object is
affected. Once 10 minutes has elapsed, or an object has been named (even if it
is not lost), the curse ends.

There is often treasure hidden near potted plants. This may be
because creatures with strange senses of humour hope that the found items will
be named and disappear, or it may be because items that disappear due to the
plants’ strange luck aura can be found in the vicinity of other plants.

In any event, elves have the potential to gain an additional boon
when the potted plant is slain: Each potted plant contains an emerald sap. Consuming
this sap grants an elf the use of one randomly determined Wizard spell for a
period of 2d24 hours, as though it were a spell the elf had learned. Reroll if
the elf already knows a spell, and mercurial magic is rolled when the spell is
first cast. Even a 0-level elf can utilize a spell acquired in this manner,
rolling a 1d20 for her spell check. There is only enough emerald sap in any
given potted plant to benefit a single elf.

If stored, emerald sap lasts up to 3d3 days before begin to spoil. After
that time, the dice rolled for the period the spell can be cast (2d20 hours,
2d16 hours, 2d14 hours, etc.), and the die used to cast the spell both suffer a
–1d shift on the dice chain every 1d3 days. How badly the sap has degraded
cannot be known until it is consumed. If the casting die is reduced below 1d10,
the elf must make a DC 10 Fort save of suffer 1d3 points of Strength and
Stamina damage.

The Albuquerque Potted Plant

When I converted Paul Reiche
III’s Gamma World module, The Albuquerque
Starport, to DCC for my own fell purposes, I perforce converted the “flinging
fern” in the restroom at Area 7.

For a 0-level funnel, this is a tough creature. Luckily, as with the
Munchkin version, it is easy enough to get away….unless it hits you. The fern can
attack with eight vines as a single action, each of which constricts automatically
each round unless severed (2 hp damage, which do not count toward the plant’s total).
Each vine can reach up to 15 feet away.

When four or more vines have been severed, the mutant plant starts
flinging explosive seed pods at the party. Each pod may be thrown up to 20
feet, exploding on contact for 2d6 points of damage in a 10-foot radius (Reflex
DC 10 half). The plant has only 10 pods. (Judges who do not allow PCs to level
at 10 XP during a funnel may reduce this damage to 1d3)

Originally this creature was a small potted house plant which was
left here by a frightened tourist during the evacuation of the starport. When
the cloud of radioactive dust swept over the area, it caused the plant to
mutate. Over the years the plant has kept the starport pest-free by devouring
all intruders.

Sunday, 8 March 2015

For the sheer fun of it, I am going to convert some monsters to DCC. I am going to choose the monsters by request.

Here are the rules:

(1) Post the monster you are interested in seeing in the "comments" section.

(2) I'll do at least three, through a process of random selection and/or choosing the ones that interest me. I might even do them all.

That's it.

You can select monsters from other games (make sure to link to or supply statistics if it isn't a standard D&D-type critter!), from pictures (old SF magazine covers, something you drew, stills from movies or TV shows, etc.), by reference (such as a creature from a specific REH or ERB story, a balrog, etc.), or simply through description ("I need a cool monster that looks like a ball with a lot of spikes, etc.). Remember to link, or give a clear description of what you want.

Saturday, 7 March 2015

My loss is your gain. Typing is difficult with my current injury, so while my cast is on (March 19th hopefully sees the end of that!) I am saving my serious typing for adventure writing, and making use of some earlier, unpublished work.

Hope you enjoy them!

Kaokaroo

A halfling-sized abomination that appears
like nothing so much as a demented wallaby with fur that swirls in a chaotic
pattern of nauseating colours, the kaokaroos attack in packs of 1d8. They attack randomly, leaping among their
foes with no desire other than to destroy natural creatures or be destroyed
themselves.

Although they are seldom seen doing
anything else but attacking, a kaokaroo is an intelligent creature, which has a
trifurcated prehensile tongue that can extend up to three feet from the
creature’s mouth to manipulate tools and objects. Kaokaroos may be summoned from the plane of
Chaos which is their home, but only powerful magic can control them, for their
hatred of creatures from the material planes is all-consuming.

The adderwolf is a three- to four-foot long
serpentine creature with a wolf-like head and fur. Its body is covered in oozing pustules where
fur and skin have been rubber raw. They
have an excellent sense of smell and hearing.
Adderwolves attack elves by preference, then halflings, then dwarves,
then humans. There is something about
the flesh of demi-humans that they seem to relish. A typical encounter is with 1d8+4
adderwolves.

This creature appears to be a toad that, if
upright, would stand to a height of 4 feet.
Although it is toadlike in general, there is something eerily human
about it hands and its eyes. Indeed, it
can walk upright if it chooses, or move in the hopping waddle of a true
toad. Its hands are fully able to
manipulate objects, and it can speak as can a human.

This shrub is able to hear, and can thus
detect creatures within a range of about 200 feet. It can mimic sounds and cries of distress,
but these sounds are actually telepathic, and, because the plant is not
intelligent, there is a 25% chance that anything heard will include (or be)
nonsensical.

These telepathic calls are intended to entice
creatures to within a 30-foot range, where its pheromones can cause drowsiness
and sleep. A creature within this radius
must make a DC 10 Fort save or fall asleep.
Creatures that fail this save cannot be awakened so long as they remain
within the 30-foot radius, and it takes 1d6 minutes for them to wake them
thereafter. Even a creature that
succeeds in its saving throw is groggy, and all actions are decreased by one
die down the dice chain (including attack rolls and initiative) for 1d6 minutes. Awakened creatures are groggy for 2d6 minutes
after waking up.

A siren bush has no actual attacks, and
relies upon affected creatures dying of exposure and starvation for its
fertilizer. It can uproot itself and
move slowly on four short, thick root stems, but this form of locomotion is too
slow to be seen by normal observation.
At the most, a siren bush can move about 5 feet over the course of a
week.

A siren bush can be destroyed by 25 points
of damage delivered with a chopping weapon against AC 10.